


Tied to the Whipping Post

by Caswingsuniverse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caswingsuniverse/pseuds/Caswingsuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on and after 11x10. DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS<br/>"The hunter purses his lips, searching the angel’s eyes like the blue is missing something. Cas’s grace brightens as he grows in their mind. Dean’s gaze is strong, and Lucifer starts to feel uncomfortable under it. Stepping closer, Dean shrugs off Lucifer’s hand and searches his entire face.<br/>'See me,' Cas croons. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tied to the Whipping Post

As power surges through his veins, his heart beat quickens. Fear, regret, guilt, helplessness, and hope flow through his grace in the instant just before his brother takes charge of his body.

 

Castiel sulks in the corner of his mind, a position similar to a human holding their knees to their chest. He rests his chin on his arms, watching Lucifer’s grace surge with happiness and vengeance. His eyes blink, adjust to the transition in grace. He’s not sure when he started to actually claim Jimmy Novak’s body as his own, but his sudden displacement of control makes him squirm uncomfortably.  Castiel can feel every sensation Lucifer does, but it’s as if all of his senses have been covered by a blanket. He can feel the warm bars of the cage against his back, can feel the throbbing in his head from the punches, can taste his own blood, can smell the sulfur. But it’s distanced from him, fuzzy like a memory. He can see Dean and Sam. Their concerned facial expressions as they take in the empty space in front of him. Lucifer’s eyes lock on Sam, his true prize, and his grace lights up with even more power. Cas focuses on the peripheral image of Dean.

 

It’s like watching a movie, but he has no choice over what angles he sees things from. Currently, he has a pretty clear view of Dean, which makes his grace feel slightly warm again. He can watch his charge without fear of him finding his gaze. But as soon as the warmth comes, it dissipates. Blood drips down Dean’s forehead, his hand resting on his brother. Dean still touches Sam, reassuring himself that his brother is still himself, but his eyes are focused on Castiel. Cas’s grace oozes blue-black sadness, longing to reach out and heal him of his wounds.

_See me…_ his grace keens. Dean blinks, his lips twitching into the slightest smile of relief at seeing Cas okay. Cas wants to bury his face in his hands, but doesn’t, too afraid of forgetting his charge’s face. He carefully examines each freckle, each scar on his arms, each shadow of an eyelash on his cheeks, each fleck of gold in his green eyes. Even without control over his body, Cas can still feel Dean’s longing, his relief that they made it through okay.

_Wow…_ Lucifer’s grace whispers in their mind. In a way, he smirks at his little brother, tsking at Cas’s sentimentality. _You two are really something._

 

Lucifer sifts through Cas’s every memory of earth, stopping every now and then to smirk or laugh. He pauses on each moment Cas is with Dean, appraises their body language like their pieces of furniture at an auction, and scoffs. He laughs at every prayer, rolls his eyes at every touch and sentiment they shared, snorts at every fight they’ve ever had. _I knew you were different, Castiel. Something strange. A wild card amongst our brethren, but this? You fell for these petty moments?_

 

Lucifer pulls forward a memory in their mind, grace gesturing to the scene. Dean sat in the bunker, bags under his eyes from long nights of reading. He rubbed his eyes, jumping slightly when he found Cas watching him. It’s early in the morning and Dean wasn’t even wearing pajamas. Dean shook his head and mumbling something about how he should give the angel a bell to wear. Cas had been confused by the expression then, scrunching up his nose and squinting at the hunter. Dean just laughed, smiling at the angel and telling him to not worry about it.

 

Lucifer pushes the memory aside, shaking his head in their mind. He laughs, facing Castiel’s grace again. _You fell for that? To live amongst these imbeciles, these blots on God’s perfect earth? And you love them? You love him?_

 

His brother points to the older Winchester in his head. Castiel nods, hugging himself tighter.  

 

Castiel slides further away from Lucifer’s grace, wary of being trapped in the same small space of such an angry and powerful being. He recalls something Jimmy said to the Winchesters, how he explained how it felt to be posessed by an angel.

_It’s like being tied to the tail end of a comet…._

 

+              +               +                +

Castiel always wondered what his brothers and sisters whispered about him in Heaven. Despite having his grace back, most of the angels found ways to gossip without him hearing. Those momentary bouts of silence only made his vessel frown slightly, but inside it felt like he was a measureless darkness of silence. He would focus on the sounds around him, stretch his hearing to capture each crunch of footsteps, each word, each breath around him.

 

This young angel stares at him with pity and fear. Something she may not understand she is even doing, her tiny grace quivering in the vessel. It’s a new sensation for her, to be chained to mortal flesh. For Castiel, it feels more like home than Heaven ever did.

 

He can’t quite meet her gaze as they search the forest for Amara. But he can’t shake his curiosity. What do his brothers and sisters think of his many sacrifices? What do they think of his rebirth?

 

The angel tells him he’s _expendable,_ that Sam and Dean are the _real heroes._ Cas fights the sudden urge to throw up. Something green and black works it’s way through his grace, filling him with self-loathing he kept buried most of the time. He can sense it in his chest, constricting his lungs until each breath hurts.

 

When he does find Amara, her power, her confidence, her anger rolls through him. Each wave sends shock waves of emotion through him, pain he hasn’t felt since Dean kicked him out of the bunker. She sees through his guise, shakes her head and says his thoughts out loud. Why _him?_ Why does he get to continue living? When he is full of so much fear and guilt and self-loathing? How is he worthy of God’s mercy?

 

Her words shake his core, cause an earthquake in his grace. The aftermath burns in his chest, makes it hard for him to look at Dean when he stands before him. She didn’t just burn words onto his skin, she burned his every mistake back into his heart. She crushed him with his own humanity.

 

With his brother standing over him, asking for his last words, Castiel stares straight into his eyes. He sees the pain, the hatred, and he doesn’t flinch away. He asks _can you really beat her?_

_I can,_ his brother answers, a twisted smile on his lips.

 

Castiel closes his eyes, takes one last breath as himself, barely whispering the invitation.

_Then yes…_

 

+          +          +          +

 

Dean’s face is an interesting amalgamation of constellations. Eye brows furrowed, half his face shadowed, lips parted as he catches his breath. His shoulders are tense, still braced with pain and anticipation. Castiel feels the longing in Dean, the need to make sure he’s okay. He can sense the slight admiration in his charge, how he looks at Cas like he can never fail or be broken. Even after everything that’s happened, Dean still sees Cas as a soldier of God.

 

“Are you alright?” Dean asks, and Castiel feels the first twinge of regret course through his body.

 

“I am. I will be,” Lucifer answers. In their mind, Lucifer raises an eyebrow at his brother. _Pretty damn good, eh? Keep Dean at an arm’s distance. Man, you boys are like middle schoolers._

 

Dean nods, eyebrows rising in question. He gestures at Baby, shoulders braced even more to prepare for possible rejection. “Can I give you a lift?”

 

Castiel’s grace smiles, light flowing through him again. Baby had gone from being a slow nuisance to an object of his affection. Dean loved the car, and as Cas spent more time with the hunter, he began to love her too. He examines her shiny black exterior, knows her curves and sharp edges as well as he does Dean’s. _Yes… please…_

 

“You two go on ahead, I’ll catch up,” Lucifer says, still smirking in their mind. Cas remains silent, watching Dean walk away without a single suspicious thought. His grace reaches out like an arm, like he could grasp Dean’s arm and just touch him for a second. So he place his hand where he left his handprint so many years ago, so he could have him just for a second.

 

+          +          +          +

 

Lucifer touches her with _his hands._ He hasn’t touched another body like that since Hannah kissed him. This is not what Castiel imagined when he thought of his next embrace, his next physical interaction with someone. He shudders, turning away from the scene.

 

Lucifer laughs at him, replacing the image of Rowena with Dean in their mind’s eye. _Better?_

 

Cas looks up, eyes stinging at he watches himself gently touch Dean’s nose. He can feel the warmth of the hunter’s skin, sense his shock at such an intimate touch. Dean gasps, tilting his head up. His breath is warm and he smells of _Dean,_ of diners and cheap soap and leather _._ Castiel rubs his eyes, but the image won’t go away, the longing won’t go away. His body feels too warm, too cramped, yet he wants to be closer to Dean.

 

Lucifer grins, eyes bright. _You enjoying this, brother?_

 

Forcing himself to stay silent, he curls tighter into himself. His fingers fall to Dean’s lips, pressing into the soft flesh. His fingertips tingle as he brushes his thumb against that red bottom lip, moving his hand to the hunter’s cheek. Dean’s jaw is sharp, his stubble scratching at his palm as he pulls him in close. Castiel is centimeters away from his charge, staring into the eyes he remade with his own grace. He holds his breath.

 

And Lucifer snaps the hunter’s neck.

 

The fantasy slips away like a curtain, leaving the scene cold and sharp. Castiel’s feelings for Rowena never were good, and he hardly enjoyed Crowley’s presence. But the quiet _snap_ of her neck and muffled _thud_ of her corpse against the floor made him flinch. He can sense Crowley’s surprise, his fear, and the sadness that rises in him. The King of Hell stares at his mother’s body, then looks up at Lucifer. The Devil smiles, crossing his arms.

 

“Let’s chat.”

 

+          +          +          +

 

The park bench is hard underneath his legs, individual bars pressing into his lower back. Screams fill the horizon, a porcelain blue bowl he stares into. Each sound grates on his ears, their laughter high pitched. Lucifer scowls, unsure as to why he decided to come to this simple playground. Squinting at the equipment, he senses that the place is familiar.

_This is where I first opened up to Dean…_ Cas supplies, his grace a tiny ball cornered in the back of his own mind. _He never told anyone what I told him…_

 

Lucifer looks around the area, still frowning. _What a disgusting place…_

 

Castiel shakes his head at the thought. He watches how the sunshine lights up the children’s hair, makes them look like angels. He enjoys the scents of fresh cut grass, the sound of games and mother’s voices. He smiles at the humanity.

 

Lucifer watches as well, eyebrows raised at his brother’s warmth toward the scene.

_What does Amara want, Lucifer?_

_She wants Our Father to pay…_ Lucifer’s answer is quiet, a small whisper that barely rings with fear and sadness. Castiel examines his brother’s grace, watches the red flicker slightly as dark blue smothered him. There were many things Castiel still didn’t understand, but he knew sadness. He knew hopelessness. He knew despair and pain and guilt. He knew what it’s like to want to die.

 

A memory of him and Dean appears in their mind’s eye. The older Winchester still wore his “monkey suit”, sleeves rolled up to his elbows in a way Cas found enticing. He avoided looking at his charge as he read John Winchester’s journal, but he could feel the bubbling curiosity inside Dean. When Dean told him to talk to him, Cas stopped breathing for a second. It was an honest request, one that Dean could garner nothing from. He couldn’t figure out how Cas got out of Purgatory for the moment, but he could take care of the angel. The hunter’s longing to fix him was so thick Cas could almost _taste_ it. He swallowed, looked Dean in the eyes and told him the honest truth. Showed that shred of self-hatred, gave Dean another piece of himself for safe keeping. And he still knows that Dean kept it safely buried inside his mind where no one else could reach it. Every time Dean looks at him, he can see that spark of fear, that quick scan to make sure he won’t disappear on the brothers. That he won’t walk off and never come back.

 

Lucifer glances at the memory in his peripheral, his trademark smirk a lie on his face. Castiel can feel his brother’s sympathy, his empathy. They were one in the same, one just chose anger-fueled vengeance over finding love and beauty.

 

Lucifer scoffs, brushing aside the moment and staring at the sky again. _It doesn’t matter, Castiel. He’s not coming back._ He takes a deep breath, standing and brushing Castiel’s hands on his pants. He stares at all the humans in the park, at the trees and bushes, and nods. He lets the anger fill him again, blanketing all of his wounds. With a deep breath, a plan forms in their mind.

_Where’s the Book of the Damned?_

 

+          +          +          +

 

Castiel blacked out when Lucifer finally trapped Amara. The blasts of light, the circling shadows, it shook his grace inside his body. He didn’t think it would be possible for his consciousness to fall asleep while possessed, but the blows of their fight knocked him out. Lucifer pulled at Castiel’s grace as well as his own, filling his body with explosions of blue power and white light. His bones ache. His stomach twists with nausea. He kept blinking, eyes sensitive to the light and the sweat dripping onto his eyelashes. When he woke up, it was to Amara’s screams.

 

She shrieked, staring at the scar on his hand. She tried to cut the symbol on his palms, tried to seal his lips, tried to blast the angels out of their shared vessel. Castiel searched Lucifer’s memories, and stumbled inside their mind when he found the image of his palms. Each wrinkle, each tendon and bone in his hands trembled and burned as they tingled, as a new Mark pulled every ounce of their shared power forward. Blood drips from them as they reach for the Darkness, and Lucifer whispers his promises to keep her from ever escaping again. Castiel quivers, weak and scared of the consequence of this spell.

 

When Lucifer finally places their hands on Amara, her shrieks grow. Her own power reaches to wrap them in darkness, to smother them in their own fears. Lucifer’s grace rose to the challenge, banishing any thought of losing. Castiel, however, thought of Dean. Saw his charge’s green eyes, his secret smile, hears his voice calling his name. He longs to tell the man he’s sorry, that he did it for him. So that Dean wouldn’t have to see his brother be possessed again. Because he’s expendable after all.

 

Castiel can feel the pain in his hands, the throbbing in his head, the beating of his heart, the sweat on his back. His grace sparks, lights and roars alongside his brother’s. Instead of falling back, hiding from Amara’s touch, it presses forward. It pushes more energy through his body, works with Lucifer’s to seal her away again.

 

Her voice cuts off as Lucifer leads their hands to grip her throat, to squeeze the air from her, to forbid her from making their biggest fears becoming reality. Lucifer gawks at his brother’s grace, at the spectrum of colors. He shakes his head at the contact between their graces and pushes his power with Castiel’s through their hands.

 

She will not have Earth. She will not have his Father. She will not have humanity. She will not have Dean.

 

Their combined wings appear behind them, spread in challenge. Their shadows appear lighter than normal, like they almost took on a physical manifestation. Castiel may have no control his body, but his surge of power and grace gave Lucifer enough power to finish the incantation. There’s a blast of light. An explosion of shadows. One last scream. And it’s all gone.

 

There’s silence.

 

Lucifer heals the wounds on their hands, pressing the palms into the closest living organism. A tree. The mark manifests itself there, shaping the bark into the symbol. Shaking, Lucifer waves their hands over the symbol, making the image shift and shimmer. Then it’s gone.

_Get rid of the Darkness, check. Next stop, find Sammy boy._

 

+          +          +          +  


Dean rubs his face, eyes bloodshot from staring at his brother’s laptop for so long. The younger Winchester is sprawled across one of the motel mattresses, legs and arms in a tangled mess of sheets. The A/C buzzes in the corner and the TV hums almost silently.

 

The hunter closes the laptop, holding his head in his hands and shaking his shoulders. Something in his chest feels tight, makes his stomach flip. Makes him think something may be wrong. When he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe, like a pair of hands closes around his throat, he _knows_ something isn’t right.

 

He coughs, putting his head between his knees while remaining in the chair. He slows his breathing as much as he can, but the grip tightens and starts to burn. He scratches at his neck, pulls on the collar of his flannel. He chokes as the sensation grows, and he feels like he’s being branded. Stumbling to the bathroom, he turns the sink on and splashes himself with cold water. He hisses from the touch just as a shock wave of heat pulses through his chest. The same sort of heat he only feels near Amara, the heat the makes him forget why she needs to die.

 

 

Ripping at the fabric, he pulls up the sleeves of his shirts, scratching himself in his haste. His forearm is scar-free as the heat fades away. He shudders in the bathroom, jumping when his brother opens the bathroom door.

 

“Dean?” Sam asks, voice alert despite his haggard expression and bed head.

 

“She’s gone…” Dean whispers back, voice hoarse. He drinks from the faucet as his brother steps forward and raises an eyebrow.

 

“Who is?”

 

Dean straightens, rubbing his neck and staring at his forearm. “Amara… she’s gone… I can feel it.”

 

Sam blinks, eyes wide as he stares at his brother. He opens his mouth to say something, but purses his lips instead. “We should call Cas.”

 

+          +          +          +  


 

Angels never sleep. They can rest their minds, day dream all they wish, but shutting down the consciousness simply never was something angels felt necessary. Time, rest, necessity, all illusions. Man-made concepts that strayed away from true discipline, from the divine. The acts of eating, of showering, of sleeping, they all represented mortality.

 

Castiel’s craving to partake in such routines frustrates Lucifer. He would see a diner, or sit for a long period of time, or smell his clothes and just _want_ to eat, sleep and clean. Lucifer tooks off the heavy trench coat, hoping the lack of weight would help him relax as he rolls the sleeves of Castiel’s shirt up. He snarls at these thoughts, crossing his arms and continuing to stare at the walls. They couldn’t go to the Winchester’s bunker or Heaven, so an old motel room works.

_Why do you want a burger? Of all things, why a burger?_ Lucifer questions, tapping Castiel’s fingers against the arm of the chair.

 

Castiel’s grace shrugs and smirks slightly. _It’s a comfort. This body enjoys burgers. When I fell, I resorted to its old routines._

 

They fall silent again as Lucifer contemplates this. Castiel isn’t bothered by his brother’s resentment of human activities. He himself never quite understood or cared about them until he became human himself. Then eating, cleaning, sleeping, everything became an important act. He wasn’t just surviving, he was striving for more, he was communing with God. He had not just bowed to God’s creation, he joined them.

 

His brother rolls his eyes at that, lips upturned like he plans on saying something sarcastic. That’s when his shoulder’s tense.

 

Castiel’s grace sparks, a small fire of hope and praise as words fill their mind. Castiel curls into a ball, holding his legs tight to his chest as to not let the feeling escape. Longing, fear, hope, excitement, all wrapped in a warmth similar to honey. Dean’s prayer makes him shudder and smile despite his brother’s obvious confusion and irritation.

_Hey man, we need you here pronto. Something’s up and could us your help_

 

Lucifer relaxes when the prayer ends and he stares wide eyed at his brother in their mind. Castiel senses his shock, and his smile grows. His oldest brother, the Morning Star, never felt the beauty of prayer. Never felt humanity’s faith, their hope and joy at being answered. He never felt his grace alight with longing, the feeling of being _needed._ Castiel recalls what he told Dean so many years before, when he first got him to pray.

_Prayer is a sign of faith._

 

Lucifer shakes his head, frown deepening. He pushes aside his curiosity and the tingling sensation. Looking up at the ceiling of the motel, he smirks. _This will be interesting._

 

+          +          +          +  


Dean looks tense when they appear before the Winchesters. His eyes are darker than usual, something about the shadows under his eyes suggesting he hasn’t been getting much sleep. His shoulders lower when Castiel appears. His facial expression relaxes, lips parting as he sighs in relief. Cas stares at them in his mind as Lucifer keeps their features stoic. His brother softens his body’s eyes when they finally land on Dean, something he never noticed he did before.

 

Responding to the subtle transition in body language, Dean steps closer. His fingers twitch, as if he wants to reach out for the angel and Cas’s grace pounds like it has it’s own heartbeat. _Dean…_

 

He watches his own body step forward as well, his voice low as his body follows to Lucifer’s commands. “Hello, Dean.”

 

The sound of the words ring in Castiel’s grace, makes him shudder. Lucifer says it with such conviction, the tone flat but hinting at concern, even love. Cas wonders if he actually sounds like that, grace warm with embarrassment. Lucifer smirks and rolls his eyes at his brother. _You’re pathetic ya know that… tripping over your wings to make him happy, but hide the fact you love him…_

 

Ignoring his brother, Castiel watches Dean. How his eyes search Cas’s, how they show his every emotion. The darkness there shows his worry, his fear, but something lights up when he looks at Cas, like there’s hope. They’d always been able to communicate without saying much, unspoken agreements that Cas held just as dearly as Dean’s words.

 

“Hey, Cas…” The hunter’s voice hesitates, and Cas tilts his head in his mind. Lucifer mimics the movement, tilting their head slightly. Dean’s lips twitch up for a second when he catches the familiar movement. He clears his throat, looking down for a second as he asks, “How are you?”

 

Cas gapes at the hunter in his mind, surprised at the question. Lucifer grins in their mind, but makes Cas’s body smile a little. “I am well, Dean. How are you?”

 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean looks away again. “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk about… I think Amara is gone.”

 

The hunter stands straighter now, meeting Cas’s eyes again. He’s ready for Cas to reject the statement or to prove he’s right. Cas’s grace stretches in their mind, and he wishes to alleviate the weight on Dean’s shoulder. To tell him she’s finally gone, to erase that blemish from his memory, it would make Dean feel better. It would make everything Cas has done worth it. His grace pleads to Lucifer, barely touching the outer edges of the fallen archangel’s power. Lucifer sneers at the contact, at the notion of comforting a human.

 

“Why?” Lucifer asks, raising Cas’s eyebrow just enough to accent the question without breaking his stoic expression. Dean nods, not surprised by the question. His body language remains open and confident, though he still appears a little uneasy.

 

“I’ve had a connection with her since she was freed… Through the Mark, ya know. And a little while ago I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like someone was choking me and burning my neck. Just like when the Mark felt like it was burning. And that connection, it seems dead now.”

 

Eyes wide, lips parted as he pants slightly, Dean is the picture of anxious desperation. Cas can tell he doesn’t want to believe such a ridiculous notion. It couldn’t be that easy. But Cas can feel the tingling power in his palms, in the air. She’s gone. And it’s because he made the decision he did.

 

Castiel doesn’t even have the chance to really feel better about his decision when Lucifer nods, smiling in their head. “I felt something strange earlier too, like something in Heaven shifted. I’ll look into it.”

 

Lucifer rolls Cas’s shoulders, eyes soft when he meets Dean’s gaze again. Dean stares at the angel with his eyebrows furrowed. Cas bites his lip as Lucifer touches Dean’s shoulder, squeezing the muscle slightly. Not tight enough to be possessive, just enough to provide comfort. Just like Cas would.

 

Dean looks at the hand on his shoulder, staring at it for a couple seconds before looking up at the angel before him. Lucifer keeps his expression soft, snickering in their mind. _This is almost too easy…_

 

The hunter purses his lips, searching the angel’s eyes like the blue is missing something. Cas’s grace brightens as he grows in their mind. Dean’s gaze is strong, and Lucifer starts to feel uncomfortable under it. Stepping closer, Dean shrugs off Lucifer’s hand and searches his entire face.

_See me,_ Cas croons.

 

Lucifer backs away from the hunter, looking away from the green gaze. Cas still watches him in their peripheral, gasping when Dean grabs his throat. Swinging them around, Dean slams Lucifer against a nearby table. His teeth are bared as he presses his weight on his arm, elbowing Lucifer’s ribcage. Lucifer gasps aloud, and Cas grins in their head. _He saw…_

 

“Where’s Cas, you son of a bitch?” Dean growls, tightening his grip on Lucifer’s throat.

 

Lucifer adopts a shocked expression, trying to play it off as he hisses. “Dean, it’s me. I’m me.”

 

Pain erupts in their head when Dean’s fist hits the side of Lucifer’s jaw. Cas’s grace roars with happiness, repeating the hunter’s name like a mantra. “Bullshit!”

 

There’s a flash of dark colors and Dean’s body slams against the opposite wall. The hunter grunts, head rolling as he looks up at the angel. Lucifer stands, straightening his tie and shaking his head.

 

“So Dean, how’d ya figure it out? Hmmm?” Lucifer asks, kneeling in front of the hunter and smirking.

 

Cas’s grace cools at Lucifer’s actions, examining every part of Dean’s face for signs of pain. He can tell his charge is hiding the pain as he sits up, once again invading the angel’s personal space. “You touched the wrong shoulder…”

 

Lucifer laughs, his whole body shaking with it as he tilts his head back. Memories of every time Cas touched his charge- each shared moment very vivid in the angel’s mind- appears in their mind. Lucifer continues to laugh, holding his stomach and shaking his head.

 

“My my… I knew you two were hopeless, but _really?_ ” Lucifer inquires, wiping tears from his eyes. “You knew it wasn’t my brother just from which _shoulder_ I touched? You’re just as bad as he is.”

 

Lucifer stands, wiping his hands on his pants. He sneers at the hunter, and Cas freezes in their mind. Dean’s glare would make any demon cower in fear. It was a look Cas hadn’t seen since Dean got rid of the Mark. A look even Cas feels like cowering from. Cas can see his mind working, forming a plan.

 

“Where’s Cas, Lucifer?”

 

The fallen archangel smiles at the human at his feet. He crosses his arms, one hand holding up his chin. “He can be taught!” Lucifer laughs, tapping his temple. “In here, Dean.”

 

Lucifer rolls his eyes like it’s the simplest thing to understand. The hunter’s eyes widen. He leans forward, coming closer to the angel and searching his eyes even more. He barely whispers, “ _Cas…”_

 

Inside their head, Cas’s grace reaches out for his charge. A sense of dread fills his grace, but the initial elation from Dean realizing it wasn’t him doesn’t fade. _I’m here, Dean…_

 

His brother shakes his head, both in their mind and in front of Dean. “You’re right ya know… The Darkness is gone. I took care of her earlier… And now, it’s time to take care of _you._ ”

 

Lucifer pulls out Castiel’s angel blade, spinning it in his hand before holding it over the hunter. Dean glances between the angel’s face and the blade. He scrambles away from the angel, reaching for the dagger between his waistband and back. When he brandishes it, Lucifer smirks. Castiel’s grace cries out, turning a dark blue and red.

 

“Cas, buddy… Fight him… Fight this…”

 

More memories appear in their mind, but only Cas really pays attention to it. Dean, kneeling on the ground, begging him to snap out of it. He let Cas beat him, punch him over and over and over until he couldn’t feel pain anymore. And he sat there, looked up at Cas and said, “I need you.” Cas may have said he didn’t know how the spell was broken, but deep down, he always did. Dean Winchester. His charge. His Righteous Man. The person he has fought and rebelled and died for.  

 

The person he laid down for, the person he didn’t raise a hand against when he had the Mark. The person he found humanity in when he was a monster. The one he gripped tight and raised from Perdition.

 

Lucifer sneers at both his brother and the human. He flicks his hand, sending Dean to the ground. He stands above him again, stepping on the human’s legs. The crack of bone makes Dean cry out and Cas flinch.

 

Though wincing from pain, Dean gazes up at the angels before him. He can see the devil in his best friend’s tense shoulders, in the sneer on his lips, in his white knuckles. But he can see Cas, his angel, in those blue eyes he knows better than his own face. There’s something soft there, something he knows is only there when Cas looks at him. Something he won’t actually admit is there. Something he won’t actually admit he feels.

 

“Cas… I don’t know why you chose this-”

 

Lucifer punches Dean, the hilt of the angel blade smacking against his jaw. “You want to know _why,_ Dean Winchester. Because he’s _expendable._ Because he’s not the _hero._ He’s just your pet angel. Isn’t that right?”

 

He throws another punch, grabbing Dean’s shirt and hoisting the hunter up off the floor. “He’s _nothing_ to you, but to him, you are _everything._ ”

 

Shoving the human away, Lucifer kicks him in the chest. Each word sounds disgusting in his mouth, and Cas pulls away from his brother’s anger and disgust. He holds his chest, pining to help his charge as he pants and coughs on the floor. “He’s weak, just like you humans.”

 

Dean spits in Lucifer’s face, and Cas’s grace lights in surprise. “You’re the one that’s weak, you fucking coward.”

 

The hunter uses the opportunity to do an uppercut, hitting Lucifer under the jaw. The angel stumbles back from surprise more than force, snarling. Dean stands again, dropping the dagger on the ground. He holds his hands out, eyes wide and pleading.

 

“Cas, come on man… All that stuff… it’s not true. You aren’t expendable. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t  for you savin’ my ass-”

 

Lucifer swings, too blind by anger and weak from fighting Amara to keep wasting energy keeping the human down. Dean ducks away, eyes narrowing but his expression still open. Cas’s grace starts to spark with energy, Dean’s words fueling his power.

 

Lucifer lands a punch, smirking at the blood on Dean’s face, at his mortality. He pays little attention to his brother, focusing solely on the last thing between him and his true vessel.

 

The hunter can barely see the angel, his face swollen in a way he’s familiar with. He remembers talking Cas out of Naomi’s spell, of saving him from Rowena’s curse. He hears himself say the words he always did, the ones he always told the angel, the ones he used to hide the ones he should have said all along.

 

“I don’t just need you…”

 

The power Cas felt when fighting Amara, his hope, his faith, his dreams, his love, rushes through him. His grace explodes inside the shared vessel, color and light crawling through his veins. He rolls his own shoulders, unclenches his own fists, smiles down at his charge in the brightness.

 

“I love you…”

 

Cas kneels before the hunter, his grace chaining Lucifer down in the back of his mind. His brother screams, claws at his grace to get free. The power radiating from the angel isn’t enough to smite the archangel, but is enough to hold him at bay.

 

Touching the hunter’s face, he heals Dean with a small smile. Before Dean could react, other than to lean into his angel’s touch, Cas presses his lips to Dean’s forehead. “I love you too…”

 

Dean sighs, hands reaching out to hold on to Cas’s arms. “ _Cas…_ ”

 

Cas squeezes his eyes shut, running his hands through Dean’s hair gently. He can feel Lucifer’s grace reaching out, tendrils of anger and desperation trying to tear his apart. With a sigh, he pulls back, tracing his thumb over Dean’s jaw line.

 

Resting his forehead against Dean’s, he can feel his every breath. He can hear his heartbeat as it settles. “Dean?”

 

“Yeah?” The hunter meets Cas’s eyes, pupils dilated from adrenaline. Cas slowly closes the distance between them, giving Dean an opportunity to back away. When he doesn’t, Cas presses his lips against Dean’s red ones.

 

That one moment of connection, their shared breath, how the hunter gasps, all of it, makes Cas’s grace brighten even more. Gives him the strength to do what he knows needs to be done.

 

“Thank you…” he whispers, tilting his angel blade as he pulls away from his charge. Before Dean can realize what Castiel is doing, he’s shoving the tip of the blade into his chest. Inside his chest, Lucifer’s grace churns with his own. They form a tornado around the blade, and the force roars in their head. Castiel isn’t sure where his pain and sadness begins and where Lucifer’s anger ends. He can’t hear Dean’s screams, can’t feel his hands gripping at his chest. Castiel holds on to the memory of Dean’s lips against his, let’s that be the rose petals he’ll be buried under.

 

His body, which once belonged to a human, erupts from the inside out. His grace pours out like lava, burning the air, his skin, everything. But Dean… his charge, is safe. The Winchesters, the world, His Father’s creation.

 

As he turns to stardust, a supernova so bright it would wipe out planets, he can hear so many voices. He hears the voices of his brothers and sisters, of Crowley, of Bobby and Ellen and Jo, every human he ever came in contact with. He can hear Sam thanking him, see him smiling. He can hear Dean telling him he loves him, that he’s needed. He hears the voice of His Father.

_You are the only one of my children that did as I asked... You bowed to man, loved them as I did. Thank you…_


End file.
